Deposits for the Soul.

During my last stay in the Hospital, I underwent a minor procedure to drain a small bit of fluid from my left lung.

I may be bit off on this, but I believe the procedure was called No Fucking Fun At All.

No, I don’t think I’m that far off at all.

A small mercy was granted to me in that it was a very quick procedure, however what sucked ass was that I felt the needle hit a nerve and it really hurt.

About an hour later there was no pain at all.

Lovely.

Then about a week and a half later, while back home, that same spot started flaring up with pain.

Arbitrarily, but often.

It’s been weeks and it still happens. It’s gotten much better, but holy heck, it’s still a mother and a half to deal with.

What helps the best has been lying on my side and doing my best to think of happy shit.

Andrea taking me to see David Gilmour on my birthday. That’s a great one.

My Dad taking me to see Pink Floyd. Shit yeah.

Then, one night, while being so wrecked with the back pain that not even my stories on PBS could help, I found some happy shit. One of the best ones even.

Mom and I were at Target. It was right near the apartment I grew up in, so we were at that Target a lot. So much so, that I had the fun places, the toy aisles and the small music section they had, memorized and of course I would bum rush those motherfuckers the second we set foot in the store.

This day was no different. Now, this era of my life was defined by discovering a love for books and action figures. The fucking glory days.

The days of religiously watching MTV was still a little ways off, especially since we didn’t have cable, so what I knew of music was what Mom and Dad would play for me, or in the case of Dad, whatever songs David put on a mixtape for me.

And of course Thriller, because everybody knew Thriller.

The only artist I discovered on my own was “Weird Al” Yankovic, and that was just from a bored afternoon listening to the radio and the DJ just happened to play “Eat It”.

I was blown away. I tried to explain the holy land I had just been taken to and thankfully, David knew what I was talking about and took me to the local record shop and there we were, walking out with a brand new cassette of “Weird Al” Yankovic in 3-D.

In the music section at Target, I went to the spinning cassette rack and OH SNAP!

There was another “Weird Al” cassette! Polka Party.

Just from the cover alone I knew this was going to be great. There was my hero surrounded by a mass of punk rockers, smiling, holding his accordion and decked out in some Oktoberfest gear.

I was so excited to have been holding it.

If the memory had stopped there then it was a success cause I was no longer thinking about my back pain, but no, it got better.

I was bewildered. Flabbergasted even.

I just thought that he had given us “Weird Al” Yankovic in 3-D, gave the Dare to be Stupid song to the Transformers movie and walked away. I would not have been mad at him either. Midnight Star was on “Weird Al” Yankovic in 3-D and I love Midnight Star, but holy heck there was more?!

I must have figured that Like a Surgeon was just a music video floating out there all alone.

Then, as it donned on me that I wasn’t in Target but in heaven, I saw two other cassettes!

THREE other “Weird Al” records had just been out there in the world and my dumbass had no idea.

It was like the comedy gods were like, “here kid. Enjoy.”

There was a self-titled one and Dare to be Stupid. So it was more than just one song for the Transformers movie! It was an entire album! A damned philosophy, maybe even a religion!

Like a Surgeon was there too and a song called… Yoda. Oh snap!

I held these three “Weird Al” infinity stones with reverence, then realized the major roadblock.

At best, Mom would get me one. So which one would it be? Do I do what I did with action figures I wanted but couldn’t get and try and hide them somewhere in the store where no one would ever find it ever and I could go get them when Mom okayed it?

I was starting to panic, when the next miracle happened.

Mom came to get me and she wasn’t alone, her sister, my Aunt Sandra, was right there with her. She lived close to us and would meet up with us most times we went to Target.

I just held up the cassettes trying to make sounds that I hoped came close to “Can you buy these for me?”

It must have worked, cause Mom and Aunt Sandra gladly went half on all three!

Holy shit! Did my family love me or what?

Mom said it was cause I had a great showing on my report card, but the reality is, Mom must have scored some killer pot and wanted me occupied so she could enjoy the high.

Was I ever occupied. I spent all weekend listening to those cassettes over and over and over. I also made it a point every time David would take me to the music shop to make sure I looked over the upcoming releases whiteboard they had.

I wanted to be prepared for the next “Weird Al” masterpiece.

Lying there, reminiscing on a “Weird Al” Yankovic pot of gold I stumbled upon worked.

Soon I was fast asleep and not dealing with my back pain.

It’s imperative we hold on to those happy memories when we make them. These Spank Banks for the Soul if you will.

We never know when we will need them and they can help in countless of ways at different moments in our life.

In this case, happiness did more for me than the last five lidocaine patches were able to do.

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